


Chase

by DarlingRutherford



Series: The Witcher works [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Chases, Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, Hide and Seek, Loud Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:18:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingRutherford/pseuds/DarlingRutherford
Summary: Geralt returns to Theia's home after two months away and finds that she's set up a game for them to play. If he wants his prize, he'll have to find her first.Archive warning for non-con not selected because it's consensual. But, there is a bit of a theme of 100% consensual slight non-con, if you want to avoid that sort of thing.Originally posted on Tumblr as part of Sinful Sunday.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Other(s)
Series: The Witcher works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593490
Comments: 7
Kudos: 153





	Chase

**Author's Note:**

> Jumping headfirst into this fandom. Theia is an OC I've created, whose story will probably be posted more on here over time as I work on her and Geralt's relationship. I didn't throw this under the Witcher video game tag since I've only seen the Netflix show and played a little of the first game. If, after reading/playing more source material, I feel like this fits in that category, I'll throw it in there as well.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

_“Are you close?”_

The corner of Geralt’s mouth quirked into a low smirk. Her voice sounded eager, almost pleasantly panicked. She was up to something, that cunning sorceress he never could find himself far from for too long. He held the broach close to his mouth, the one she had given him ages ago on a long chain, when they had both realized how important this was for them. It had seemed simple enough when she had given it to him, but he knew better than to underestimate anything gifted by a sorceress.

“Just passed the fork at the river.”

Theia mumbled something sharply, almost certainly ‘_shit.’_ Her voice carried through the broach, distant and far away, but still clear.

“Am I interrupting something?” The smirk remained on Geralt’s face. He strained his ear, listening for clues. Something _scraping_, lightly, in a hurried fashion. Ink on parchment?

_“No, I - fuck -” _Then, the sound of something breaking. Something small, glass. It sounded _tin-y _as it echoed in the broach, but he had heard her break enough by then to know better.

“Should I hurry? You sound as if you need assistance.”

_“No! No, take your time,”_ she said. She was trying to calm her voice, and he could hear the smile behind it despite her rushing. _“I'm just trying to get some things done before you arrive. I'll see you soon!”_

Silence. Slipping the broach back into his shirt beneath his armor, Geralt looked at Roach as the mare eyed him at his side before huffing.

“I know, Roach. We're almost there, and then you'll get your food.”

The huff that left Roach this time was content. Theia spoiled the mare, consistently enough that Roach now trotted along the path to her home with what could be construed as glee with each visit. The two of them walked through the woods, dried leaves crunching under boot and hoof as they made their way to their destination. A light steady trail of smoke was puffing out of the small chimney of the cottage when they arrived, an almost guaranteed site this time of year. Geralt led Roach into the cozy stable Theia had seen to the previous year - not the beginning of her spoiling in the least. Fresh warm hay had been laid in the stall ahead of their arrival, as well as a fresh bag of oats and a smaller bag of carrots hanging at the side. Geralt hummed lowly as Roach eagerly stuck her nose into the bag of carrots, running his hand down her mane before leaving her to her meal.

The cottage was pleasantly warm. The hearth had been replenished recently, with a lidded pot hanging above it filled with some kind of soup by the smell of it. Herbs hung from the rafters, some half dry, tied together in bunches that broke the warm light that glittered in through the window. A strong scent of lavender caught Geralt's attention almost immediately. It floated in a fine line before it melded with the other scents in the room, beginning at the door and leading through the kitchen. He set his pack on the kitchen table, then followed the scent past the hearth to the bedroom. When he swung the door open, he expected to find Theia waiting for him. She liked to leave trails for him, to entice him towards her. But the bedroom was empty. The trail ended at the foot of the bed where, on one of Theia's brightly colored excess pillows, sat a folded scrap of parchment.

_I've missed you. Come find me. x_

Geralt smirked. She wanted to play a game. It would be unkind of him to deny her, when she was always so hospitable to him and Roach. Geralt lifted the paper to his nose and smelled it. The scent of lavender wasn't as strong on the paper. She had used something other than her skin to spread the scent, then. Still facing the bed, he removed his sword from his back, then began on his armor to set on the bed as he played her game.

He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply. She cleaned the sheets recently, but if he dug a little deeper he could still find his own scent from his last visit melding with the moss and lavender that rested amongst them all the succeeding nights. Scents traveled like waves of colored light in his mind, stretching in various directions. The glass had been swept away, but he located the source of the break he had overheard before: one of her tiny vials, the one she had been spreading the scent of lavender with. It had rolled off the small desk in the room and shattered upon impact with the wooden floor while she scribbled the note. There it was. Her scent, the most recent, hovering around the desk. She hadn't bathed in her usual lavender that day, trying to cover her scent, but it was still there, remnants of it in her hair, on her skin, just as always. He had his trail.

Geralt watched the ground as he stalked through the woods. He looked for signs of her beyond her scent trail. The falling red and brown leaves aided her at covering most of her physical trail, the wind blowing in various directions to throw off the scent. But he knew her so well by then, after years of games and tricks and her bubbly encouragement. Geralt could feel magic in the air, floating on the wind to his left. A quick glance found leaves swirling before settling down. To a lesser trained eye, it would have appeared nothing more than the autumn wind, but Geralt knew better. He could feel her magic - she was close. He took off sprinting down the way, the leaves crunching beneath his boots until he suddenly came to a stop. Everything was quiet. The magic still hung around, but everything seemed… _stagnant._

“_Shit!_”

It sprung up quickly around him, the very leaves that had been swirling only moments before, fashioning into a wall around him. Geralt turned quickly, surveying the woodland cage that had been created so quickly. He could hear Theia's laughter light on the air, echoing to his left before he heard her footsteps rushing past. Geralt pressed his hand against the wall of leaves, testing their hold, only to have his hand _slapped away_ by a _group _of _leaves_.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” he growled.

He didn't have time for this. The sun was going down, and she was too close to lose now. He raised his hand, twisting his fingers into the Sign of Aard, and thrusted energy towards the wall in front of him. The leaves shattered, breaking in every direction as he took off running after her. His blood was hot now, ready to close in on his prey.

Geralt ignored the visual signs of her trail. She was trying to cover it up as best she could as she ran, but it was no match for his nose. Moss may have hung in the air at every turn in the old forest, but the light trail of lavender mixed with adrenaline and arousal couldn't be hidden from him no matter how hard she tried. As Geralt came up to a brook he slowed once more and observed the area. She hadn't crossed the water, nor had she gone far. The trail all but ended there, almost vanishing into thin air. A long felled, large tree lay along the bed of the stream, hollow by the look of it. It was covered in lichen and large mushrooms, the tree itself large enough for a full grown man to sit upright inside it. He smirked as he quieted his steps and made his way towards it, following the side towards the opening. Quick as the wind, Geralt lunged his arm into the hollow tree, grabbing onto Theia's ankle and pulling her from it.

Theia screeched at first when he grabbed onto her, more startled from the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins and his quickness than anything. She slid along the leaves as Geralt pulled her out, twisting her body as she tried to get free. Geralt grabbed her other ankle with his free hand, trying to rein her in when suddenly she swished her fingers up towards the sky and his feet were swept as if a rug had been pulled from beneath him. He groaned as his back hit the ground and heard her scrambling up amongst the leaves. Geralt sat up quickly, twisting his fingers as their eyes met.

“_Sit_,” he growled. The words echoed in Theia's mind, and she suddenly found herself void of the will to move her feet. She slumped back onto her rear, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

“That's not fair,” she breathed. Geralt would have considered it whining, had she not been so obviously fighting a grin that pulled at her lips.

“You trapped me in a cage made of _foliage_,” he reminded her.

“What else is a _defenseless_ sorceress to do when the _White Wolf_ is hunting her?”

Geralt peered at her, humming lowly as he saw that look in her eyes. She wanted to _play_, more than he had originally thought. Well. If she wanted a _white wolf_, he'd give her just that. He showed his teeth as he smirked at her this time while rising to his feet. The look made Theia's eyes widen as she tried to rise, only to find her bottom firmly fixed and legs refusing to assist, her will to stand all but taken from her.

“Do you know_ why_ I was hunting you?” He asked quietly. His voice was low, scraping his throat like gravel. It made Theia shiver, caused her to swallow as she eagerly awaited what he would say next. Geralt took the few steps to close the distance between them and crouched at her side. Theia almost thought he was about to kiss her when his lips ghosted so close to her jaw, but then she realized he was _smelling_ her, hovering his nose along the side of her face, up into her hair, then back down again, lingering just in front of her to close his eyes as if about to taste a fine wine. _Gods help her_, she was _soaked_, and he _knew_ it.

“You couldn't expect me to catch your _sweet_ scent and _not_ desire a bite.”

Despite their game, a whimper was the first thing to leave Theia's mouth when Geralt's hand fisted in her hair and he crashed his lips against hers. She couldn't help it, finding herself so overcome by lust. He was rougher than usual, pulling her hair to strain her neck as his teeth nipped and bruised her lips. Theia bit back just as enthusiastically, not satisfied until he was growling on top of her. She found herself gasping for breath each time his lips parted from hers, only to quickly fall back in line as his tongue demanded submission of hers. Geralt pressed his hips against hers, catching her moans as he ground against her heat. His cock had been hard since the moment he had caught her scent in her home upon starting their game, and he made sure that she could feel the strain he carried all because of her. Theia pressed her palms against Geralt's chest and gave a hearty shove. For every inch that she pushed Geralt back, he threw himself forward tenfold until his full weight was pressed against her, trapping her where she lay. A valiant effort, he'd give her that.

Geralt's hands grabbed at the skirt of Theia's dress, roughly rucking it until he could slip his hand onto her bare leg. He didn't bother removing his gloves - he never removed them when taking down his prey after all. Worn leather slid along her smooth skin, pushing the skirt up the remainder of the way with it. Theia felt him hook his fingers along the hip of her underwear, _gasping_ as he pulled hard and ripped the cloth.

“You're gone for _two months_ and you think you can just - _!_”

Another rough kiss from Geralt silenced her, pulling her back into their roles. His teeth scraped at her top lip, nipping sharply as he quickly unfastened the buttons on his pants. Theia's squirming became more dire as she realized what he was doing, her hands pressing at his shoulders only to find he wouldn't budge. She couldn't see what he was doing while he devoured her mouth, only feel his shifting when suddenly his arms slid beneath her legs, grasped each of her wrists, pinned her arms down at her sides, and thrust into her.

Theia's throaty cry echoed throughout the forest. The babbling brook nearby did little to absorb the sounds of her. Her knees bent over his arms, Geralt had her completely pinned, vulnerable - _exactly_ where he wanted her. He didn't waste time, his hips rushing towards her in quick succession with each thrust. He had missed her more than she could know, but there would be plenty of time for passion and a more gentle touch later. Any pain quickly turned to pleasure for Theia. Her moans were evidence of that: one for each thrust, then one for every two, unable to keep up with his pace as she practically howled her throat raw. Her voice sent a shiver down his spine, fueled his determination. But she was being _too_ loud - words he never thought would run through his mind. At this rate, everyone in the next town over would hear her and come rushing to her aid if the wind caught and carried her voice just right.

“Make a barrier,” he grunted, breaking the facade and slowing his hips for only a moment. It was torture, slowing himself now when all he wanted to do was make her scream his name, but it wouldn't help them if someone _actually_ thought she was being hurt.

“_No_.” Her reply was curt, defiant, garnished with a smirk.

“Someone's going to hear you.” His tone was clearly dripping with vexation now. Slowing after gaining such speed was maddening. It made him_ ache_ as his desire built and built with an invisible wall in his way. Perhaps she didn't understand that their game relied on _not being found_ publicly fucking, that someone else - _not _Geralt, and _certainly_ not Theia - would be the one hurt if they were to be interrupted.

“Then _do something about it_.”

_Ah._ _That's_ what she was wanting.

Geralt had to shift a bit, releasing her legs from their propped position, but, despite Theia's incessant squirming wherever he gave her room, he soon had her arms pinned above her head with one of his massive hands holding them. With his other, he pressed his palm firmly over her mouth, careful not to restrict her breathing as his fingers gripped for purchase. When he thrust back into her with full force, Theia cried out against his leather-clad palm. Clearly she had been holding back, Geralt surmised, judging by how easily he could hear her still. His grip firm, Geralt was satisfied with the muffling, and began thrusting his hips at a speed Theia could clearly tell was to punish her for slowing him before. Her muffled yells melded with his breathy grunts, the slapping of their bodies as they met hurriedly. Theia's eyes opened to meet Geralt's, and in her gaze he found so much lust and love to trust him to take care of her in his roughness. Her brow furrowed for a split second as his hand released her wrists, before she gave a long moan amongst her cries when he began rubbing his gloved fingers just above her heat.

His touch was quick, sporadic, _heavy_, just like his thrusts. She writhed beneath him, consigning herself fine with the break in roleplay to gain the kind of attention she craved from him. The spiking pressure beneath his fingers and the deep, dull, _delicious_ pain and pleasure of his thrusts, the feelings began to meld together into one big ball of _good_. There was no other word for it, she was sure. And just when she was unsure if she could handle the pressure any further, it _popped_, and she came undone beneath him, writhing, and screaming, and flexing around his cock. The squeeze of her undid him then. Geralt buried himself inside of Theia, “_Fuck!_” rasping from his throat and echoing around them as he squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on her mouth as he emptied himself in her with ragged breath.

Theia couldn't move. She was sure of it. Witcher Sign commanding her to sit or no, she wouldn't be walking home. Geralt remained poised above her, the closest noise to a whimper Theia had ever heard leave his love-bitten lips repeatedly cascading from his throat with each breath as his cock throbbed within her. Her full-fledged whimpering Theia gave to him freely. They broke lightly upon his glove, muffled still as he found himself unable to move his hand quite so soon. When Geralt's eyes opened, he found hers still shut, her brow creased and turned upwards to paint the familiar look he often saw on her after their more intensely passionate trysts.

His hand was stiff when he slid it from her face. He stretched his fingers out at his side, the gentle creaking of tight leather melding with their breaths. Red splashed across her face, mostly confined around her mouth, along with some individual spots from the tips of his fingers along her jaw. If Theia had in her cottage a potion or salve worthy of clearing them, he would see it that night. Her lips were puffy in some places, bruised from bites and everything that came when she challenged him to _let loose_. And then, came _the smile_. It spread slowly across her features, as perfect as the rising sun and just as warming, her stamp of approval to let him know she was perfectly satisfied.

Geralt slid from her, rolling to his back at her side. They stared at the evening grey and pink sky that swirled above their heads amongst the red and orange and brown trees that refused to cease the shedding of their leaves even as night began to fall.

“_Gods_, I missed you, Geralt.”

Geralt hummed his approval, and this time it was his turn to grin.

“You'll have to carry me back,” she said with a heavy breath. Geralt chuckled, picking a large leaf from her shoulder as it landed.

“I may just leave you here.” Now was her turn to hum, hers a long, drawn out one that called his bluff. “I'll know right where to find you in the morning, wet with morning dew and ready for more.”

She didn't answer, but her wide grin and exhausted, lilting laugh was enough. Minutes passed, each of them continuing to catch their breath as they enjoyed the changing of the colors above them.

“Axii never worked on you before,” Gerald commented.

“Maybe I felt like letting it win,” she said. Geralt hummed low, satisfied with her response. She had let it in, given him control to tell her to do whatever he wanted. He would have to keep that in mind for next time.

“I _am_ going to have to carry you home, aren't I?”

“Mmmmhm.”

_A ride for a ride_. It wasn’t a bad trade-off, he decided.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, and especially those who leave kudos/comments! If you enjoyed this, please feel free to follow me at [Darling Rutherford on Tumblr.](https://darlingrutherford.tumblr.com/) I post mostly DA smut over there (which are cross-posted here most of the time, with some exceptions), but I'm definitely slowly digging deep into this fandom as well so there will be more of this to come in time :)


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